Deluge
by Female Violence
Summary: What's in a name? Puzzleshipping, YamixYugi


**Author Note**: I haven't written anything this long in... forever. I was upset tonight and before I knew it I forgot what I was upset about because I wrote my problems away. : Forgive the errors (much love if you'd help correct them!), the **excessive** (holy shite understatement) use of dashes, and the lack of smut. Of course, it will come. Knuck knuck.

Also, I haven't seen Yu-Gi-Oh! in forever so forgive errors in that field as well, and correct me 'cause dammit it's been a couple years here, guys. I also don't know what method I'm gonna use toget around the whole spirit thing yet, but hey, if worse comes to worse I know you guys don't give a shit if I throw some porn at you, right?

Also, ALSO I know many people find first person point of view annoying, and to be honest I'd totally understand if you found this writing to be ridiculous and stupid. It's something a bit different for me, but tell me what you think either way. Tell me if you like it, hate it, love it, want moar (even if you don't ask I'm gonna give it to you), or you can tell me about your cat Mittens.

Also, also, also, tenses. I need to work on that.

Enough, enough! On with the show.

**Deluge**  
Chapter One

In actuality it all started out rather innocent on my part. I mean not to feign my innocence because in all actuality of _that_ subject I am quite opposite—it might be due to being around, oh, 3,000 or so years old, you understand? It's hard to remain pure with so many years behind you—alas! I digress. I say "innocent" because despite this non-innocence bared I would never dream of attempting such an act as this—especially on him. You understand, don't you? Although I may have lost naivety to time this doesn't make me an immoral monster. My manners are well placed and I'd like to think of myself as a gentleman. A gentleman and a gentle man, you see? I'd never force such a thing upon a being unless they desired it, and—let's keep this between you and me—he _desired_ it. My eyes could not have been deceiving me, surely! They are not capable of pulling off a trick so arousing, and let me tell you, it was exactly that. Exactly what I tell you—no, that word can't describe it. There's no denotative expression confident enough.

The feel of his skin against mine, the sound of it... ungh. This alone is enough for me. I could spend another 3,000 years exploring that body; I could spend hours dipping into those canyons of his thighs—never seen before by another's eyes—and scraping my fingers teasingly over his nipples pressing hard enough just so he can feel it, but light enough to leave him wanting more. More. More. More. I find myself spouting this word contentiously when we're doing these acts—more, more because it'll never satisfy me to just do this once. I can't just stop cascading my hand over him, pricking his skin with my own. I can't just once excite his need and then slowly guide my hand downward. Those walls encased me—made me feel actually alive—I can't, I won't—do it only _once_.

Don't think it's only about this physicality either! His mind is interconnected with my own, after all. I can't just ignore his emotions. I certainly can't ignore my own; they are too powerful. It's not as if I pine for this body. I pine for the soul as well—the _soul_. His kindness and his heart make me go insane, as does everything else about this boy. I don't want to own him, but he's mine!—and don't think it doesn't go both ways! I'm all his. He can use my body as long as he wants, whenever he wants. He can gauge my mind with declarations and inquires and I will accept them (not just accept them I will respond to them with great vigor!) like he accepts me— like he accepts me in _every_ possible way. Oh, he accepts me.

Although... all is not perfect. These feelings of my mind and body are consuming, yes, but some things cannot be overridden. Certain things like... ah... a trouble mind will ramble and not bother to put things in a correct order. There's a correct order to everything, you see, a balance. Perhaps I should start where most stories opt to; perhaps I'll start where we all begin: the _begin_ning. Maybe if I hadn't set off this sacred balance in the first place I wouldn't be in this mess—oh, it's a wonderful mess!—but still such a mess.

This began a week ago. Seven days ago. One hundred sixty eight hours ago. Ten thousand eighty minutes ago. Six hundred four thousand eight hundred seconds. Alright, so my timing could be a few minutes off, but you know us Egyptians are mathematical geniuses, right? Besides, it's not as if I haven't been counting down the seconds. I have been. What else can I do? My life is all him right now. My world revolves around this boy. It's not because it actually does, it's because I want it to. I might be bound to him, but it's all wanted. Maybe this just wasn't enough for a pharaoh like me who I am sure was awarded everything wanted with a simple gesture of a lazy hand. It was enough, though! It is! He could forbid me to touch him and I'd stay and worship him with my eyes instead of my hands—use my ears to respond to his every want and whim and need. Even then if he forbade me to place my eyes upon his form then I'd get down on my knees and become a slave to his words. I'd worship every syllable that slides gingerly off his tongue—so softly, sometimes you can't hear it—but I'd listen, and listen well. I'd drink every letter greedily. Doesn't he understand he has total control? He's pharaoh and I am slave. I'm shackled and thralled to this monocracy of the heart.

It seems I've failed to start at the beginning once more. It seems to me that I've failed at quite a lot lately. Or rather perhaps I have failed to do a lot lately. Well, I've done quite a lot, but it wasn't approached with words. It was all action. Those actions that I've craved for so long and finally initiated. This is truly a bittersweet reunion of fantasy and reality. For you see although in fantasy words can slip and tumble and become insignificant—overnighted by lust—in reality it is much more complicated. I must—and gladly do, for this reality significantly allows the fantasy to become insignificant—take into account this other's feelings. I must let love take the reigns and place said Fantasy above my lust. I must treat him gently. I know he's too strong to break, but I feel it's my lifelong duty to protect him from anything. Can I use the word destiny? Fate? Weak words that pale in comparison to my thoughts on such a vehement subject. No, destiny won't do—it's just a _word_. Give me something stronger—something that won't fade with memory. Memory, memory, memory... now there's an ominous word. My breath catches in my throat and stays. My eyes will soon be the Nile. This word brings thoughts of my current predicament to the surface, and I suppose this will be when you will know everything because I can't keep these thoughts inside forever.

Yugi, will you ever know?

**5.09.09. 12:12 AM**


End file.
